Kuroriyoushi
by Shadowhedgehog8
Summary: Mr. Phantomhive's Pie Meat Shop is going downhill and the only thing that's bringing money is Sebastian's barber shop.  The solution: putting in new ingredients, humans and a dash of a tragic ending.
1. Part 1 of 2

~Part 1~

"Hey Sebastian," Ciel is leaning up against the window of his meat pie shop, Mr. Phantomhive's. He stares at the new business moving in across the street. He can smell the success from across the street. London has tough competition these days, and he couldn't exactly afford that at the moment. With the tough economy and all, it was hard to come by good meat, let alone any. "How do you feel about 'cat' pies?"

The man in the background behind the counter is busying himself with the squashing of cockroaches. "I quite adore cats, Master Ciel. At least make it 'dog' pies. I would enjoy eating those treacherous things instead."

The young boy sighs and drags his leaden feet over to the booth, sits down on the U-shaped couch and takes a sip of gin. His grayish-blue hair shimmers in the dull light of the meat shop, "'Cause there's no place like London." He takes another sip. His worried hands rub his face, and one of his hands slips under his eye-patch to massage his closed eye. "What are we ever going to do, Sebastian? You're the miracle worker over there."

Sebastian picks up the rolling pin on the counter and slams it down on another revolting bug. He smirks at the boy with determined eyes, "I am not a miracle worker..."

Ciel saw this line coming for miles and lip-synced with him with that teenager attitude and a rolling eye.

"I am just simply one Hell of a barber."

"I know that! You've only said it a bajillion times!" He takes in a deep breath and lets it all out at once. His head drops and hits the circular table below him, which has a pile of dust on it. "That business...they're new. What in the bloody hell are we ever going to do? It's not like we can drive them out of business."

"You're a Phantomhive," Sebastian says with a firm voice, "figure it out yourself. You've got a brain, don't you? It is pitiful that you are asking a simple game piece like me for advice."

"You're my protector," Ciel said into the table-dust, "you were supposed to help me. It's in the contract."

Sebastian couldn't say anything back, it was true that he was supposed to help him when he needed help. He began to think. He rolled up his puffy white sleeves and leaned his forearms on the flour-covered counter. He looked outside to the people frantically moving like squirrels to get the place ready for business tomorrow. His red, demon eyes flashed with an idea, "How many people are there? Two? Three?"

Ciel lifts his head up the table with effort, looking like he just woke up, "What is your devilish mind thinking of?"

Sebastian continued to stare out the window at the people. He pulled one of his fingerless knitted gloves off with his mouth. "Oh, just thinking." He takes out a razor and gazes into the harsh silver, his reflection staring back at him. _It's any demon's wish_, he thinks. _Just the simple joy of slicing into the foolish humans_. _The sound of them screaming as they try to run away with the biggest grin painted upon my lips._ They are foolish, he doesn't even understand how they could still be surviving. But he has become accustomed to their culture and their adorable pets.

He walks over to his young master. There is a white cloth that hangs out from in between his leather belt and his blue, white pinstriped pants. He slips it out and rubs Ciel's forehead with it. He shoves it back in between his belt and pants and continues to walk, the heels of his black shoes clicking against the worn down, dull wood of the floor. He looks at the people: one fat and short, another tall and skinny, one old and the other young. The plump one stopped and looked back at him and waved strangely. Sebastian stood bored, motionless.

He continued to stare as he queerly restarted his job of moving materials in the building. "Why don't we use people?"

"For what?" Ciel stumbles out of his seat and walks over to be next to the demon. He looks out at the man also, his chubby face forms into a tomato in his mind's eye. He came to a realization; the answer was right in front of him the entire time. "Humans for meat?"

Sebastian smirks, his black hair is casting a sinful shadow over his flaming eyes, "You learn well, young Master." He looks down at Ciel, whose bright, blue eye is aflame with confidence as he looks out at the men. His laced, black glove reaches out at him, yearning for a successful business. Possibly a clean slate. His red bow tie shimmers in the dull light of London, along with his black jacket with bright gray swirl patterns adorning it. His shoulders are frosted with a perfect line of black, plastic beads, and feathers that are lined with red.

Sebastian holds the top of his jacket between his pointer fingers and thumbs and let go. A cloud of dust bursts out and slowly settles to the floor. He grabs his black top hat from the table that is decorated with a red ribbon, which seems to be dangling off the brim like dribbling blood. He gently places it on his master's head.

"It is time to go out to the market," Ciel instructs him of his evening plans. "Then you must go back to business since you are the one that is doing decent these days."

Sebastian is behind his master, and the only way he can follow him through the crowd is to keep an eye on his bright red pants with their black pinstripes. There is a crowd gathering around an area with a stage. A man comes out from behind navy blue curtains, wearing quite an extravagant outfit. It looks like it is made from the curtains. His top hat is small, but it looks as if the top is ripped off and stretched. His eyes are hidden by his near-white bangs and hair. He is Mr. Undertaker, the creator of the hair elixir.

He begins his advertisement loud and clear, "Buy my elixir! It's simply the best and will make your hair grow long and silky! It is the best you will ever have to make your scalp shiver with joy!" He takes the cap off the bottle, the wind picks up the scent and drags it across the air. "You sir!" He points at a bald man up front and shakes the bottle above his head, causing a couple of droplets to splash upon his scalp. "Doesn't it just feel great? Doesn't it just stimulate your pores? It's a great thing, this elixir! So get a bottle! Maybe two or three!" He tosses a bottle into the audience.

Ciel gets a whiff of the the hair elixir, "Is that piss or ink? I can't seem to tell."

Sebastian's nose is the next to cringe at the scent, "Shit with some floral perfume? That reeks more than rotten meat. Does it not, Master?"

"Of course it does!"

Mr. Undertaker freezes in his steps, "Who dares call my elixir poo?" He begins to laugh insanely. "Oh! Fool, you are! Who called my fantastic hair elixir this?"

Sebastian looks at the ground, debating if he should step forward or leave the stupid man hanging, "It was I, Sebastian Michaelis."

Everyone in front of him turns to stare at him. Everyone behind him gasps like it was a giant mistake.

Mr. Undertaker makes the next statement loud and clear, "Mr. Shithead. That is quite a fitting name. Well, I will take your challenge, so move your tiny ass up here before I come down to do it for you!" He laughed wildly, almost falling over.

Sebastian cocks an eyebrow at him, he didn't make an offer for a challenge, did he? He thought he just called his elixir shit, right?

Well, that didn't really matter to him. He meanders through the crowd to the stage. He walks up the steps slowly, getting his razors out and warmed up. His metal heels clicked on the wood as he approached the back of an empty chair.

Ciel looks out at him from the audience, mouthing out those words that he sometimes loved: I order you to win.

His smile turns into the Cheshire Cat's as he sharpens the glinting blade of one of his razors. His eyes flicker to a brighter red, fire taking over his demonic blood, "Yes, my lord."

Mr. Undertaker looks over at him, "Are you talking to yourself, nutjob?"

Sebastian looks up as if nothing happened, "Of course not, I was talking to your soon-to-be corpse. So, what are we getting if we win? Five quid?"

He shrugs, "If you win, sure. If I do, I want to hear your darkest secret."

"Deal."

He turns out to the crowd and lets out a large yell, "Who wants a free shave?"

Two men jump up onto the stage and shove each other out of the way to sit in the cushioned chair of the much esteemed Mr. Undertaker. The other hangs his head limply in disappointment. He drags his feet over to the other seat and collapses into the other chair with a loud sigh.

Sebastian pulls out a large, white cloth and drapes it over the man's body, tying the back together behind his neck. "I assure you the closest shave." He looks over into the audience, "Mr. Phantomhive, would you like to be the judge?"

He nods his head, not even the slightest smile wrinkling his cheeks, "I would be honored." He walks through the crowd and walks up the first couple of steps and onto the stage, the red heels of his shoes clacking against the boards. He sits down and looks up to Sebastian, "Sebastian, watch." He holds out his hand, the black lace of his gloves is free from his fingers's grip, his palm wide open for the watch.

He reaches below his leather vest and pulls out his pocket watch with the chain and places it in his master's hand. "Very well, young master."

Ciel speaks out to the audience in a most formal manner, "To determine the winner of this contest, the one with the cleanest, fastest, smoothest shave will win. Is that clear, gentlemen?" He turns to look at the retired grim reaper and the demon behind him.

They nod their heads, and Mr. Undertaker's ends with a large laugh, "I will kill you at this!"

Ciel presses the button at the top of the watch, "Begin."

Sebastian takes his time to put the shaving cream on, he knows he will win, simply because he was ordered to.

Mr. Undertaker puts on the cream and notices Sebastian carefully placing it on the other man's face, "Ah, a man of perfection, I see. Or is it a man of petty concerns?" He takes one stroke with the razor and begins to crack up at his own joke. The blade is withdrawn so he can hysterically laugh and not slice the man with his razor.

Sebastian, being the barber he is, takes a razor in both hands and quickly flashes them against the flesh of the man, finishing his shave within mere seconds. It is a clean shave, yet a very close one. But he is too fast for the man to even notice that he has done.

Ciel presses the button on his watch a second time, not even looking back to check if Sebastian is truly done. The demon takes the cloth off the man and uses it to clean off his razors.

Mr. Undertaker looks at him, his jaw almost hitting the ground. "So...so sublime!" he doesn't laugh, he wouldn't dare because of his terrible loss.

Sebastian smiles his little kitty smile and holds out his palm to him. He gestures to the man for his money, he did win fair and square.

Mr. Undertaker sighs loudly and takes out his dainty coin purse.

Ciel stands up and walks over to Sebastian, gliding in his two inch heels. He stands there, about to say that he wasn't impressed in the least, but he had to notice the purple coin bag. He could only give him a strange look and a "What the bloody hell is that?"

"It's my coin sack," Mr. Undertaker said matter-of-factly.

"Coin sack?" Ciel never heard it called that. He looked up at the barber for his call on the situation and he shrugged his shoulders. "What the bloody hell is a 'coin sack?'"

Mr. Undertaker holds out his five quid towards Sebastian and opens his mouth to start explaining. But Sebastian rips it out of his hand, places it in the inside pocket of his vest and directs Ciel to the stairs, "We know what a coin purse is, but thank you for trying to explain." They leave the man with his mouth half open.

Ciel and Sebastian have time to kill while they wait for night. Ciel has a plan Sebastian doesn't know about, but he is involved. Sebastian keeps to himself upstairs in his room, waiting for a customer of some sort to waltz in. He sits in the black chair with metal buttons sewn into it. The arms are quite long and wide. He sits with his legs comfortably crossed while sharpening his razor's blades. He sings to himself, "Monochrome blows though our colorless encounter. I shall entrust each of my pains to you–––."

He is cut off by an interesting conversation outside, a man's voice drifts in through the window. He wants to listen, "I would love to go to that barber. What's his name again?"

"I don't know, sounded italian even though he clearly wasn't," the other man points out.

"Oh, I do remember that pasty skin and those ruby eyes."

"More like blood-filled eyes. Plus, it seems like he'd have better hair if he cuts hair for a living. I mean, it looked atrocious!"

Sebastian straightens his bangs and looks at his black, silky hair. "I like my hair," he mumbles to himself, "What's wrong with my hair?" He continues to stare at it as the men walk up the stairs. The door swings open and Sebastian stands up from the chair. "Good day, gentlemen. May I offer you a shave?" He gestures the chair he just vacated; the black chair that could possibly be owned by Satan himself.

"I would love one," the first man says as he walks over and sits down in the chair, "how much would it be?"

"I'll discuss that matter later, kind sir," Sebastian says. He drapes a red cloth over the man and ties a knot in the back behind the man's neck.

The second man tells his buddy that he is going to go to the market to do some shopping, and he'd be back to pick him up. The door closes behind him and his footsteps are heard walking down the stairs.

Sebastian continues to sharpen his blade, "So how was your day, sir?"

He completely zones out as the man answered with his daily schedule. He hears Ciel's voice in his head, "Kill him while the other one is not around, that's an order."

The man finishes speaking and Sebastian says his infamous line, replying to his master's command, "Yes, my lord."

"Ah, I am nothing more than a regular citizen," the man says. The man thinks his words are directed at him. "But that is a very kind thought of you to think mister...what was your name again? I can't seem to recall it."

Sebastian walks up to the back of the chair with his razor in hand. "Sebastian Michaelis. It is quite a difficult name to remember for some. But a small brain is good, that just means you have more braun."

"Did you just call me stupid?"

Sebastian chuckles with his cat-like smile, "Of course not! Some people are just much more strong than smart. Referring to the saying 'all braun and no brains.' You must just have more meat on you, is all."

"You mean muscle, right?"

The barber holds his blade up to the skylight, and the razor glistens in the dim night glow of the London sun that is covered by clouds.

"If you would like to think that, sure." He swipes his hand down quickly. He is a perfect arm's length away and the blade sinks into the man's neck just right. He forces it in farther as blood spews out like a sprinkler. He dies within seconds, such a lively death. Blood still pours out of his neck and his clothes are his sponge. "'Cause there's no place like London," Sebastian holds his razor up to the window again to look at it with a sense of satisfaction. He liked the fresh red tint of blood on his razor.

He hears Ciel's voice in his head again "Please put him in something and bring it down. We will discuss the rest later. That's an order."

Sebastian smiles with softly shut eyes, "Yes, my lord." His eyes open again, and they're just as devilish as they were before, except that they were searching for something this time. There was only one thing big enough in that small room to fit a body in, and that was the wooden chest that is hugging the wall.

He walks across the room and opens the chest. It looks roomy, roomy enough to fit a corpse that will be used for meat pies. He walks back over to the chair and throws the man over his shoulder.

Sebastian places the body inside of the chest, creating a coffin for the man and future people. He closes the top and goes to pick it up to carry to his master, but he notices the giant blotch of red on the shoulder of his white shirt. He looks around the room for something to cover it, he can't let anyone see the blood in brood daylight.

There is a black jacket in the corner of the room, it practically has a pile of dust piled on top of it with occasional spider webs.

He picks it up and shakes it off. He puts it on and it covers his stain perfectly. He lifts up the "coffin" and hauls it out the door effortlessly. He meets the other man on the steps. "Your friend left so soon," he says. "I finished quickly. But he told me to tell you that he went home. Would you like a shave soon, sir?"

He looks at him weird, "That's strange. He's not the type who likes to be alone. How long did you say it took you to shave him?"

Sebastian clutches the handles tighter; they were beginning to get soaked with blood. He kept cool. "Not long, kind sir. I am simply one Hell of a barber. But I have to go deliver something to Mr. Phantomhive in the meat shop. So if you don't mind, I will do that quickly. You just wait at the bottom of the steps and I'll be back soon."

He gives the man an assuring smile and walks off into the shop. He spots Ciel starting up his daily work by making the dough for the meat pies.

He looks up at him, his blue eye shimmering with determination and excitement, "You got him?"

"Of course," Sebastian sets the chest on the ground and opens it to show the thirteen year old boy, "You know I'd never fail you, young master." He shuts the top and picks it up. He stands, waiting for his master's next order.

Ciel walks out from behind the counter and stops in between the lounging room and the working room. There is a hall in between the two rooms, one that descends into dark shadows until it hits a metal door. His laced, fingerless gloves reach in and press against the door handle. He forces open the metal door and lets Sebastian in.

The tall man walks in, dumping the chest upside down to let the corpse flop to the ground, and leaves.

"Now you can put him in the meat grinder. I have further business to do, a man is on the steps waiting for a 'shave'."

"You told him that his friend left?"

"Of course I did, but it made me sick. I don't understand how humans can lie without feeling the guilt rise up in them."

"Here, they are filled with shit 'cause there's no place like London!"

"Watch your mouth."

"No can do, Sebastian." He walks into the cellar and closes the metal door behind him.

Sebastian sighs with defeat, "He will never learn, will he?" He picks the chest back up, "Hm, much lighter." He walks out of the shop and sees the man resting on the steps.

The man stood up, "Why did you come back with the chest?"

Sebastian smiles at his entertaining thoughts, _Foolish humans. They need to learn a thing or two. _"Oh, that is none of your business, sir. I just simply needed an easier way to carry a certain thing, so I used this. Are you ready for your shave?"

The man steps to the side and holds his arm out towards the steps, "Lead the way."

Sebastian smiles, "That's very kind of you, sir. But customers must always go first."

The man had no argument and went up the steps first. He opens the door and holds it open for Sebastian. The demon throws the chest to the other side of the room using one hand and it lands perfectly on the ground. Sebastian closes the door behind him and stands there with a smile. He tilts his head down and his bangs cover his eyes. He laughs lowly, "May I ask, what is wrong with my hair?"

"What do you mean?" the man seems confused at first, but comes to realization about the conversation before. "Oh my! I'm so sorry that you heard that. Wow, wait. You heard that?"

"I did indeed. I believe you said something about a person who cuts hair that I should have a better hair cut. I quite like my hair." He reaches to his side and pulls out one of his razors, "Hello, my friend. I missed you."

"Who are you talking to?"

"Oh, no one." He holds it comfortably in between two fingers and flicks his wrist. It flies out of his hand and hits the man in the throat. He smiles his catlike smile. "That's one less piece of scum on the planet." He takes the razor out of the front of the man's neck and pushes him in the chest.

He starts to sing the song that he was singing before, "I shall entrust each of my pains to you. The unforgiving autumn, which forcefully traces my scars, comes while your cool fingers still beckon me." He walks out of the door and closes it behind him with his foot.

The bell that hangs just above the door jingles.


	2. Part 2 of 2

~Part 2~

"After I've melted, you tenderly save the troublesome," Sebastian continues singing all the way down the stairs, through the baking room, and to the dark hallway leading to the main oven and meat grinder; this is the cellar. He opens the metal door and walks into the room.

Ciel has the corpse on his back, trying to push it up the side of the meat grinder and attempting to get it into the top. This won't exactly work because the thing is much taller than he is. His legs become weak and he collapses, the corpse lying on top of him.

Sebastian throws the corpse from the chest on top of Ciel. "Kitty pile," he says jocularly.

Ciel gives up trying to get up and looks up at Sebastian, "You hate dogs to the point where you won't even say the word?"

"Yes."

He sighs lightly, "Get these things off of me, Sebastian."

"As you wish master." The young man picks the freshly killed corpse up from the top of the pile and throws it into the huge grinder, which is not often used because meat is rarely bought. It hits the bottom with a loud thud. He takes the other one and does the same thing, except it makes more of a plop kind of noise. Sebastian lifts Ciel by the waist and sets him on his feet lightly, his shoes pigeon-toed as his full weight is accepted by gravity. He adjusts his feet back to normal and dusts himself off.

Ciel clears his throat and looks up at his demon. "Thank you, I can do the rest. Go back before you miss a customer. We wouldn't want to waste good meat, now would we?"

"No, master. But I must say, you should work out more often. It would benefit you. I might not be able to come down here to throw a body or two into the meat grinder at your every whim."

"Or I could get a ladder," Ciel mumbles to himself.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking out loud."

"Well, goodbye for now." Sebastian walks out of the room just as his master starts to crank the grinder, putting all his weight onto the handle to get it moving and dragging himself backwards to get it to go back upward. Bones are crushed to powder and meat is mashed perfectly for pies.

Later that evening, Sebastian and Ciel stare across the street. The smell of their competition's success is slowly turning sour. Mr. Phantomhive breathes in deeply, a sweet scent running under his nose.

"Don't you think it is about time we 'welcome' our neighbors, master?" Sebastian is looking down at the young boy with his ruby eyes.

Ciel is pondering his options of getting out of going across the street to see the new people. He thinks of many options:

He has mono.

He's got a date!

He got sick from accidentally eating some raw meat.

He could say that he is really exhausted and pass out on the table.

Unfortunately for him, he can't run through all his options as quickly as he'd like. Sebastian was dragging him though the door of the meat shop and across the street.

"Sebastian!" Ciel yells out.

He stops in his tracks and merely peers down at him. He says nothing, not a single word to his master. He starts to walk forward again and lifts him to his feet in front of the shop's front door. He dusts off Ciel's pants and clothes for him and holds the door open for him.

The bell sings from atop the doorframe.

"Sebastian!" Ciel argues through gritted teeth, "We can_not_ visit these people! They are our competition!"

"They are also our neighbors, Mr. Phantomhive," Sebastian points out.

A young man comes from the back to the counter. He adjusts his glasses so he can see and freezes in his spot. He smiles with delight, revealing his yellow, rotten teeth, "Pap! We got ourselves our first customers!"

Sebastian cringes at the sight of his teeth; that yellow doesn't even look yellow, it's closer to a brown, with the company of something in between his two front teeth. _Humans, _he thinks, _how repulsive they can be!_ Sebastian looks back down to Ciel, who is smiling up at his friend.

His grin widens at seeing his demonic servant's face. He whispers up to him, "You don't want to meet them anymore, do you?"

They both redirect their attention to the old man walking up to the counter. He takes a glance at Ciel and laughs, the wrinkles on his face the wrinkles reminiscent of an old, worn leather glove. He rests his forearms on the counter in front of him and grins devilishly, his front teeth missing, "You're that Phantomhive from across the street, aren't you?"

Ciel nods his head in response, looking confident.

He laughs even louder, letting the sound boom through the room, "Leave before I bust a gut!" He calms his guffaws and changes his countenance to a more serious one, the glare on his glasses covering his eyes, "Look here, pipsqueak. You got no chance against us. Your motto: 'Mr. Phantomhive's, the Worst Pies in London.' Ours is going to be 'The Best Pies in the World.' How do you feel about that? We're new and exciting, you don't stand a chance. Plus, your business went drastically downhill after your parents died and left you in charge. How foolish of them! Your entire family's divs!"

To the little boy Ciel, it felt like a kick in the stomach with a steel-toed boot, or a slap across the face from a pretty girl. He couldn't decide if he wanted to cry or kick the man in the crotch.

"Se-Sebastian…" The name crawls out of his mouth and drops to the floor. They shatter, along with his abused soul.

Sebastian puts his finger lightly on Ciel's mouth to hush him, "Shush, you don't have to say anything." He picks up Ciel by the waist and walks out the door with his Cheshire cat smile.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, Sebastian?" He squirms around, thrashing his arms and legs.

Sebastian takes him by the collar and lifts him to eye level, "Patience, master. All you have to do is order me. But we shall wait 'til night." He begins to hum as he crosses the street and swivels through the lessening crowd of the day. He stops in front of the shop to set Ciel down and looks over at the setting sun, yellow fading to orange, but never fading into red. Yet, in his eyes, the sun cries red, it bleeds out into the horizon and floods into town to stop at his feet. He continues humming and his humming turns into singing, "Icy me and toy around with me with a kiss." He steps inside of the door and stares across the street, "Nevertheless, I search for a single form of love. Your dried eyes tied it to the present from a time far beyond."

His red eyes burn through the window and the door that is part of the meat shop across the street. He smiles wickedly, almost like the Cheshire cat as he had his way with the Mad Hatter's hat. He comes out of the door so swiftly that the bell doesn't ring. He swiftly runs across the street, moving so fast that he is a black streak in the night. Sebastian stands behind a street light, burning brightly. It slowly dies as Sebastian goes to the door of the competition's shop. It is locked, but this is no problem for him. He begins to mumble the same song again to himself, "If I can, I want to end while shrouded like this." He places his hand carefully on the doorknob, adjusting his fingers to be in the perfect position. He pulls back swiftly and the entire handle comes off in his palm. The door creaks open.

His lithe body slips through the door and he walks in nonchalantly. He flicks his wrist and razors appear in between each one of his fingers. He walks forward toward the counter, the metal heels of his black shoes clicking against the cheaply tiled floor. He walks behind the counter, whistling his tune. He looks down at the cash register, which is not fully closed. He opens it up with one of his razors; nothing. "Pfft, all bark and no bite."

There's a noise above him followed by the sound of footsteps.

Sebastian presses himself against a wall that is next to a doorless entrance to a staircase.

The young man walks down the stairs, his eyes still half-lidded from sleep. He stops at the bottom step to squint out at the room and sees no one.

The demon kicks backward and spins so his metal heel hits the man in the head, knocking the man unconscious. He looks down at the man, not knowing what to do with him. He has a giant dent in his forehead that is a perfect impression of his heel.

He drags his body behind the counter and looks behind him to the back room. Shadows creep up to his feet as he drags the unconscious body to the back room. There is a door at the end of the shadows and it breathes out chilling air. He opens the door up and lets out the giant yawn of the freezer. He tosses the body in the freezer and locks the door.

Sebastian walks away from the door with no regrets. He plays with the razors that are still in his hand, opening and closing them as he walks to the stairs. His heels click on the floor, _click, click, click, click. _He walks up the stairs, still opening and closing his priceless razors. He starts to whistle, which progresses to mumbling the song, "Together, we concealed our pale selves; the moon is hiding, too." He places his hand lightly on the doorknob, devouring the sensuous feel of a soon-to-be kill. He twists his wrist to open the door and lets go of the handle. The door creaks open loudly.

Sebastian uses his demonic speed to rush into the room and sits in the dark corner next to the window, which lets in the moon's mourning light so it can shine upon the nearly ruined floorboards.

The old man is sleeping in his bed, sound asleep and snoring.

Sebastian stares at the man, analyzing every little thing of him. He continues to flick his razors and mumble his song, "How many nights did I come to love since then? In the sea of dependence, I forget to even breathe." He stands up from the corner and struts over to the man's beside to stare down at him. He holds one of his razors to his neck while watching the moon's light reflect off of the silver ever so brightly. "Even with your captivation, you only leave behind a tepid warmth," he presses the razor into the pale flesh of the man's jugular, only slicing the first layer of skin. The demon smiles widely with satisfaction.

The man finally opens his eyes to peer into Sebastian's soul.

This makes the demon uncomfortable, seeing as he is looking at the only thing he has. He quickly slices the man's throat with the razor. Blood leaks out of the neck and spills onto the cotton sheets, which turn from white to a deep, solid red. The rest of the blood flows in rivulets to pool on the floor.

He walks out of the room, closing the doors to then venture down the stairs. He walks across the room and out the door.

The bell sings its melody, but not so loudly as to annoy the killer.

Ciel sits in his room, staring at the ceiling in wonderment. Questions race through his head on what that man had said earlier. He spoke to himself, "My motive, what is it? Greed? To save a couple dollars? Yes, that was my motive. I have ruined my family's name. I'm sorry father. I apologize mother. I will make this right. I will make you happy the next time your souls look down at this shop. It will be thriving with business, we will be better than any other pie shop in London. I will bring the Phantomhive name back to its original position of respect and dignity. It may be made fun of now, but it will not be humored later. If I do not bring back what was originally ours, I swear I will throw myself in the flaming oven in which this family makes their riches from. I swear on my grave that I will make this family name respected. For the queen of England! For mother and father! I will make this meat pie shop the best one in the world!"

He hops out of his bed and runs to the window, "The best pies in London! Mr. Phantomhive's will hold monopoly once again!" He closes the window with his new motive in mind: to regain the respect of his family's name. He slips on his shoes and runs down the stairs and into the main room in which the counter sits, holding his resting rolling pin and flour.

That night, he ends up making three batches of meat pies from the single, large oven in the cellar. His business would open tomorrow with a new motto, "Best Pies in London!"

Ciel is ready and energetic in the early morning, dressed in his usual crazy outfit. He runs over to the front door and flips the sign to open. He can't wait to start his fresh slate. The grand opening of Mr. Phantomhive's simply couldn't be any less than perfect or astounding.

He presses his face up against the window like a little child looking into a candy shop. The streets are beginning to fill with the awakening crowd, ready to go do their day's work. He takes a couple steps back to the middle of his shop. A floorboard creaks underneath one of his feet. He smiles widely and yells out to himself, "I shall not disappoint my family's name! I shall not disappoint her Majesty! The name Phantomhive will reign once again before the day I die!"

Sebastian comes down the stairs and takes his left hand in Ciel's, placing his hand on Ciel's shoulder. They begin to dance, Ciel more clumsy than usual.

Sebastian takes the moment to speak, "What is this you speak of, young master?"

He pushes away from Sebastian and looks up at him, "It is time. We shall not kill for money any longer, we shall kill for redemption!"

Sebastian nods his head, "Understood." He clears his throat, "I see your determination has strengthened, but not your dancing."

"I never asked for your opinion on my dancing," he points at Sebastian with a serious finger, "you are just one of my pawns. Now, down to business; the jerks across the street, what happened with them?"

"The old one is dead, young master." He places his hand on his chest and bows towards his master. "But it is the young one I am not sure of. I kicked him in the head, knocking him unconscious. I had to step over him to get out, but I do not know if he is alive. I am presuming he's not, my lord."

Ciel nods his head, "Perfect."

The door opens and the bell sings in its sad tone.

A man in long rags and long, white hair walks in. He takes off his hat with holes and looks up at Sebastian with his hidden eyes. "You stole my life, my soul." He begins to laugh hysterically, but it fades into a more melancholic tone and progresses to pitiful tears.

"Mr. Undertaker?" Both Ciel and Sebastian couldn't believe their eyes that the once rich Undertaker had fallen down to dressing in rags that he once spit on.

"Yes, it is I. I have lost all my customers to you, Michaelis. You've sliced them out of my hands!" He walks over to the round table in front of the window, but does not sit in the booth. His head drops and slams into the tabletop.

Ciel walks over to the counter that has many freshly steaming pies upon it. He ponders which one to give the poor man and then picks one up to place it on a plate. He slides the plate onto the table inches away from his head.

He lifts his head up to look at the young boy. Even though he can't see the retired grim reaper's eyes, he knows they are filled with hurt and loss. It is something he knows well from when he was a smaller child, losing his parents and house.

Ciel tries to give him a reassuring smile, but it only appears bitter and scary. "It's on the house!"

The Undertaker finally takes a seat in the booth behind the round table with the company of a heavy sigh. He slaps his holey top hat on the table. He digs around inside of his coat pocket and pulls out the small, maroon coin purse. He throws it onto the table, the one coin inside bouncing against the table. "I don't care for this anymore. All I want is a beautiful coffin, is that too much to ask for these days?"

"No more coin sack?" Ciel asks.

"Nope, you take it. I don't care for it." He takes a large bite out of the meat pie and places it back onto its plate. He stands up to dust himself off and swallows his bite. "That's delicious!" He has second thoughts on leaving it behind and takes it with him to eat as he walks out the door. He waves goodbye and drifts down the street saying one line, "'In the art of knowing when to quit.' For Sebastian Michaelis, I know where my customers have gone in your hands. I know my old job quite to well to not know what you have been doing."

Ciel sits in his room, staring at the ceiling in wonderment. Questions race through his head on what that man had said earlier. He spoke to himself, "My motive, what is it? Greed? To save a couple dollars? Yes, that was my motive. I have ruined my family's name. I'm sorry father. I apologize mother. I will make this right. I will make you happy the next time your souls look down at this shop. It will be thriving with business, we will be better than any other pie shop in London. I will bring the name Phantomhive back to its original position of respect and dignity. It may be made fun of now, but it will not be humored later. If I do not bring back what was originally ours, I swear I will throw myself in the flaming oven in which this family makes their riches from. I swear on my grave that I will make this family name respected. For the queen of England! For mother and father! I will make this meat pie shop the best one in the world!"

He hops out of his bed and runs to the window, "The best pies in London! Mr. Phantomhive's will hold monopoly once again!" He closes the window with his new motive in mind: to regain the respect of his family's name. He slips on his shoes and runs down the stairs and into the main room in which the counter sits, holding his resting rolling pin and flour.

That night, he ends up making three batches of meat pies from the single, large oven in the cellar. His business would open tomorrow with a new motto, "Best Pies in London!"

Ciel is ready and energetic in the early morning, dressed in his usual crazy outfit. He runs over to the front door and flips the sign to open. He can't wait to start his fresh slate. The grand opening of Mr. Phantomhive's simply couldn't be any less than perfect or astounding.

He presses his face up against the window like a little child looking into a candy shop. The streets are beginning to fill with the awakening crowd, ready to go do their day's work. He takes a couple steps back to the middle of his shop. A floorboard creaks underneath one of his feet. He smiles widely and yells out to himself, "I shall not disappoint my family's name! I shall not disappoint her Majesty! The name Phantomhive will reign once again before the day I die!"

Sebastian comes down the stairs and takes his left hand in Ciel's, placing his hand on Ciel's shoulder. They begin to dance, Ciel more clumsy than usual.

Sebastian takes the moment to speak, "What is this you speak of, young master?"

He pushes away from Sebastian and looks up at him, "It is time. We shall not kill for money any longer, we shall kill for redemption!"

Sebastian nods his head, "Understood." He clears his throat, "I see your determination has strengthened, but not your dancing."

"I never asked for your opinion on my dancing," he points at Sebastian with a serious finger, "you are just one of my pawns. Now, down to business; the jerks across the street, what happened with them?"

"The old one is dead, young master." He places his hand on his chest and bows towards his master. "But it is the young one I am not sure of. I kicked him in the head, knocking him unconscious. I threw the other one in the freezer, but I do not know if he is alive. I am presuming he is dead, my lord."

Ciel nods his head, "Perfect."

The door opens and the bell sings in its sad tone.

A man in long rags and long, white hair walks in. He takes off his hat with holes and looks up at Sebastian with his hidden eyes. "You stole my life, my soul." He begins to laugh hysterically, but it fades into a more melancholic tone and progresses to pitiful tears.

"Mr. Undertaker?" Both Ciel and Sebastian couldn't believe their eyes that the once rich Undertaker had fallen down to dressing in rags that he once spit on.

"Yes, it is I. I have lost all my customers to you, Michaelis. You've sliced them out of my hands!" He walks over to the round table in front of the window, but does not sit in the booth. His head drops and slams into the tabletop.

Ciel walks over to the counter that has many freshly steaming pies upon it. He ponders which one to give the poor man and then picks one up to place it on a plate. He slides the plate onto the table inches away from his head.

He lifts his head up to look at the young boy. Even though he can't see the retired grim reaper's eyes, he knows they are filled with hurt and loss. It is something he knows well from when he was a smaller child, losing his parents and house.

Ciel tries to give him a reassuring smile, but it only appears bitter and scary. "It's on the house!"

The Undertaker finally takes a seat in the booth behind the round table with the company of a heavy sigh. He slaps his holey top hat on the table. He digs around inside of his coat pocket and pulls out the small, maroon coin purse. He throws it onto the table, the one coin inside bouncing against the table. "I don't care for this anymore. All I want is a beautiful coffin, is that too much to ask for these days?"

"No more coin sack?" Ciel asks.

"Nope, you take it. I don't care for it." He takes a large bite out of the meat pie and places it back onto its plate. He stands up to dust himself off and swallows his bite. "That's delicious!" He has second thoughts on leaving it behind and takes it with him to eat as he walks out the door. He waves goodbye and drifts down the street saying one line, "'In the art of knowing when to quit.' For Sebastian Michaelis, I know where my customers have gone in your hands. I know my old job quite to well to not know what you have been doing."

The night is thriving and alive at Mr. Phantomhive's meat pie shop. People fill the tables outside and inside. Young men laugh in the back room, the air lingers with the scent of gin and alcohol. Ciel flips the sign on the door from OPEN to SOLD OUT. He walks back outside to deliver the last meat-pie he has to a young man, who is already stuffing his face with one at the moment.

He looks over at the gate of the fence and sees Mr. Undertaker opening the gate to let himself in. Ciel walks over in a rush and takes out his cleaning cloth to whip it at him. "You have no money! So you have no business! No money is no game piece! Leave!"

The Undertaker walks away and shrivels into a tiny ball to float on a near by puddle, "All I want is a coffin. Please! Give me the tinniest mercy you can spear!"

Ciel turns behind him to call Sebastian, who is sitting on the steps for an awaiting customer, "Sebastian! Get rid of this filth!"

He stands up and walks over with a couple of steps, "Yes master, as you wish."

He reaches the gate and the Undertaker pitifully gets up and runs away in tears, "All I want is a coffin! Even a box would work now!" He glides down the street and is eaten by the grabbing shadows of an alleyway.

Time bleeds on and on. Money is made, names are redeemed, the Undertaker is chased away every night by Sebastian, and Ciel was happy. So what else is this young boy supposed to do now?

The boy had his high-heels on his new, round table that had a chess board on it. He plays with the queen in his hand, twiddling with it and swerving it in and out of his fingers. He places it on the board. He sighs as he looks outside at the rainy day. No one comes on days when the heavens cried, that's one reason why he likes the underworld better, because he doesn't have to deal with the random depression of above.

He moves the piece to the middle of the board and looks over at Sebastian, who's rushing in quickly so he doesn't get so wet. "Sebastian," he talks to the game piece, "Who else do we have to kill?"

"Just my customers, young master." He pulls one of three seats from the counter and sits in it to be facing the table. He picks up the horse piece from his side and places it in the middle with the queen. "You've got one filthy 'customer', don't you?" He smiles at Ciel, his perfect teeth gleaming in the yellowish light of London.

Ciel places a bishop piece from his side to the far left, "Yes, but as you know, grim-reapers such as the Undertaker as not humans, just like you. So therefore, his meat may not be well to use and we'd lose my customers."

"'Our' customers, master Ciel." Sebastian takes three random pieces and places them on the far right side of the chess board. "See, they first come to you and give you their money. Then, once they are fattened up from your meat pies, they come to me for a 'refreshing shave' and come back to you to _be _your meat pies. It's a simple cycle in which we both profit."

"So then we get the most profit out of any businesses because we don't have to spend any extra money on meat and shaving cream?"

"Ah, you always seem to amaze me, young master!" He stands up and slides the chair back to place. "I must go back upstairs to my barber shop. I will come back down for my break."

Ciel sits normally and calls out to Sebastian, "Wait! I want you to deal with the Undertaker as soon as you can. That's an order."

He nods his head, "Understood." He goes back to walk towards the door, but a young man rushing into the store runs into him.

He takes off his cap and apologizes to Sebastian for running into him, but his face flushes after looking up and seeing how tall he is. The man slowly steps to the side to awkwardly stand in the middle of the room. He spins around in a circle and stops to focus on Ciel, "You're just the person I wish to see, Mr. Phantomhive."

"Really?" He relaxes again, allowing his feet on the table and his arms behind his head, his body resting across the cushioned booth.

The man strikes the boy with a serious face, "There have been suspicions of missing people going around town, do you know of any of this?"

Ciel shrugs his feathered shoulders, "I didn't hear anything."

The man turns to the barber. He shakes his head, "No. Why should you ask about these 'rumors'?"

The young man digs around in his pocket and takes out to what Sebastian first thought was a wallet, then he flips it open to be a police badge. "Head chief of Scotland Yard. There are people missing in action and there is suspicion filling the streets about Mr. Phantomhive's Meat Pie Shop. You must answer all the questions I ask you truthfully and swear oath to God that you shall not lie."

Ciel sits up in surprise to the police officer. He honestly didn't see that coming. He processes his plan through his head, followed by an order to Sebastian, _Get rid of him before he finds out! Dispose of him thoughtfully also. This is an order._

Sebastian nods his head, _Yes, my lord. _He holds his hand out toward the side door with a friendly smile dancing on his lips, "I don't understand how you could ever come to work with that stubble. Would you like a shave first?"

He feels his chin, "I do have some peach fuzz, don't I? I guess I could use a shave."

Sebastian pushes open the door, "It's on the house, kind sir! Please follow me." He walks outside and up the stairs.

The man follows behind him, "May I ask you some questions on the way?"

"Of course."

"How many men come in your barber shop?"

"Many a day." Sebastian thinks to himself, _He never asked how many come out._

"Do your customers ever come back?"

"It's only been a short time since I've become popular, so it's most likely that my customers from before have not grown enough facial hair to come back." _Even though it makes me sick to lie, he said to tell the truth under oath to God. I don't believe in silly things like that._

"How long has your business been popular for?"

He pauses to think. His foot hits the top step, the metal clashing with the soggy wood. He stands on the top step and turns to face him, "For a week or two." Sebastian pushes open the down to his shop while flicking open one of his razors. "You first."

The man hesitantly walks into the room.

Sebastian closes the door lightly, being kind to it before it has to see another death.

The man looks at the barber chair to notice a dried liquid on the armrest. He runs one of his fingers through it and looks at it; dried blood. He turns around with fury and anger, "You are involved with the missing people, aren't you? This chair is covered with blood!"

"Oh my," Sebastian says with an emotionless voice, "you have caught me. What ever shall I do?" He smiles at him with his infamous catlike smile, "Arrest me, I dare you." He beckons him with a single finger and starts to sing his song, "I dislike your kisses. Don't leave me alone, perceive and color me already."

The officer magically pulls out a baton and holds it up in front of him as a threat.

"Where'd that come from? Your ass?" Sebastian looks at him confused. He didn't exactly notice that before he pulled it out of his coat. He flicks his wrist, razors slipping down his sleeve and placing themselves in between the fingers of his right hand.

"Where'd those come from?"

"My sleeve. I actually have an answer for that one." He kicks out at the officer and hits him in the gut.

The man flies across the room to hit the wall on the other side. His hand hits a glass on a small table beside him and it shatters against the wall with his hand. He puts his hand on the ground to help himself back up to his feet, but glass gouges his flesh. He stays seated and holds his bleeding hand, ruby liquid running down his wrist and arm to settle in the elbow of his coat. It drizzles out of the fabric and falls to rest on the floor.

Sebastian walks over, like a victory has been officially made. He stomps his heel on the man's shin to make the bottom half and foot jolt upward, breaking the bone in half. "What words will slip out of your room? Being confused, falling asleep. Will you tell me about things beyond those?" He continues singing his melody as he twists his foot to the side. The young police officer screams for mercy, wailing and bellowing in complete pain as the torture goes on. "Only the moon is looking at the sighs lost in the questions of smiles."

The officer lifts his hand with the glass and slaps it onto Sebastian's leg, then grasping his fingers around the skinny calf of the demon's to let the glass eat away at the gashes they created.

The barber winces, but says nothing. He rips his leg away from the officer's grip and nearly falls over.

The man makes his body to fall over forward, his torso on top of his shin. He drags himself with his arms towards the doorway, the window letting in rays of hope.

Sebastian gets his balance back and dashes over to the large barber chair. He jumps off the top while throwing the razors in mid air at the man below his long legs. They pin his shirt and pant legs down. One nails him right in the back to barely miss his spine. He lands perfectly, his feet just bordering of the officer's head. He smiles down at him, the shadows casting over his eyes so his red irises flash at the officer. He sings one final line before his victim's death, "When the next long needle points to the ceiling, you won't be around anymore."

He bends over to reach a hand out to the razor in his back, crying for its father to help it. He pulls it out slowly, ever so slowly.

The officer screams more, the pain really getting to him this time. He gasps for air with his mouth wide open, the mixture of tears and blood running down his face together to slip into his mouth. It had the taste of melancholy and regrets.

Sebastian stands over the man and grabs the underside of the officer's chin to yank it up. He bends over so his head is next to the young man's head. He whispers, "It's only a matter of time before you die, so don't run away from Death; just simply welcome it. We all deserve to die." He holds his razor up to his victim's throat, a little below his Adam's apple. "There's a hole in the world like a great black pit, and it's filled with people who are filled with shit, and the vermin of the world inhabit it! 'Cause there's no place like London!" He slits the man's throat as he speaks his last words. Yes, there _is _no place like London.

He stands up to look around at the bloody mess he created throughout the room. "Welcome Death." He steps away from the body and looks, depressed, at the room again, "Yes, I welcome Death for an innocent shave, for a cup of tea, for a quiet conversation." He walks over the body and picks up the chest, in which nothing lies. He turns away from the crime scene and opens the door to his shop that he shall never return to ever again. _I've turned into a monster, _he thinks to himself with silent, invisible tears streaming down his porcelain cheeks. _My soul hurts from being stabbed so many times, I wish to leave this all behind._

He takes one last glance at the scene of destruction before he steps out of the door permanently. "It's only a matter of time that I turn into a human; full of lies and selfishness. It sickens me that a simple human being could do all this and walk away with no care." He turns around to head down towards the stairs, but he only makes it half way down before Ciel comes sprinting out of his shop and to the bottom of the stairs. Sebastian gives him a worried look, "What is wrong, young master?"

He bends over to pant, "The oven! It caught the basement on fire!"

"You locked the metal door, right?"

"Yes."

"So it shouldn't get past the basement. Take my advice," Sebastian places a blood-soaked hand on the young boy's shoulder and directs him back inside. He stops at the chess table that still has the specific game pieces in the center. He flicks the queen and it flies off the table and onto the seat of the red booth. "Run, welcome Death." He knocks over one of the pawns as well. "I killed the officer, but there is nothing that will heal the destruction that I have presented to this cruel world. In all sickly health, my leaded feather has fallen to the lowest mountain." His hand limply slides off Ciel's shoulder. He drifts over to the other side of the room like tumbleweed and reaches the door. His fingerless glove presses against the door handle, it squeezes out the ruby liquid of life that also possessed death.

Ciel yells out to Sebastian, "Are you leaving me?"

Sebastian stops his slow action and glances back to him.

"After all we've been through? After what happened to me? You're just going to leave me in the gutter with nothing and say 'Welcome Death'?" A tear builds up in the corner of his blue eye and rolls down his cheek.

Sebastian softly sings some words, "Nevertheless, I definitely seared for a form of love. Your teary eyes tied it to the resent from a time far beyond."

"That doesn't answer anything!" He screams at Sebastian at the top of his lungs whilst pitifully running over to him and hitting him. "You monster! Monster! You can't leave me!"

Sebastian places a gentle hand on his shoulder and one in his hand and starts to waltz with him. He doesn't want to leave, but the police will notice that one of their men have been missing for a long time without reporting back. He truly wants to stay with his master, to stay beside him before he dies. But he knows he can't or they'd both get in trouble.

"I want to come with you, Sebastian." Ciel says while looking up at him. He trips demurely over his own feet.

"If I can," he started to sing to Ciel, "I want to end while shrouded like this. Your wish and the night bring morning along in vain. Paint it with a tender, passionate, yet cowardly kiss." He lets go of Ciel, dreading the moment as he does. Even though he is a demon, he feels like a human. Ciel felt like a son even though he was "somewhat" of a brat. He wished to stay with him. He could see in the boy's eye that was visible that it was like losing another set of parents in a house fire. "The moon illuminates our final night." He runs away in a desperate attempt to forget everything that just happened, but he isn't human. He can't do it because of that. He holds the chest in one arm and a pair of knitted gloves dripping with the officer's life. He runs all night and it kills him to sense the kind of danger poor Ciel is in. But it was this time he had to disobey him and not come. It killed him to do this.

He turns back to run for his master's help. But there is this sound, the sound he knows well before he felt the pain in his neck: It is the sound of a blade rushing through the air and effortlessly cutting through his neck like melting butter. His head falls off his shoulders and hits the ground like a boulder. His body collapses to the cold floor afterwards.

And behind that spot where Sebastian's body once stood is the Undertaker, standing triumphantly at his last active duty as a grim-reaper. It was out of gilded revenge, and it smelled so sweet to him. Nothing would come back after getting its head chopped off, at least nothing that resembled a human form. He brushes his white bangs out of his eyes to glance down at Sebastian's dead body, his eyes glow of a golden sun.

The man laughs outrageously. He spots something next to the body that sits in the near shadows. He stops his laughter and looks at it; a chest. Yes, his wish: The beautiful coffin he wished for the entire time. He smiles wickedly, Sebastian's Cheshire cat smile taking place on the Undertaker.

Mr. Undertaker opens up the roomy coffin and climbs in it, "Who ever said I was officially retired from my work? No one. But I am now." He shuts the top of the chest and goes to rest inside of it. He giggles for the rest of the night inside of his heavenly new home.

_ The store is on fire, being engulfed by the flames it has started. They grow so large that they have nowhere else to go. Ciel is only a little boy at the time as he tries to run in to save his parents. He escapes the arms of many adults trying to hold him back while the fire department makes their way down. "Mommy! Daddy!" He bursts inside of the flaming meat pie shop and coughs, the smoke dashes into his young lungs and settles in. He yells again, "Mommy! Daddy!" He runs past the burning booths and tables turning into ash and runs towards the back room in which customers can rest and drink._

_ He sees his father lying on a lounge chair passed out with a bottle of gin in his hand, the same hand that has his Shard of Hope ring. It shines darkly in the bright firelight._

_ Ciel's blue eyes start to water from the smoke, "Father!" He reaches a hand out in an attempt to help him, but a board falls in front of him. He jumps back and falls on the ground. He stands back up, crying from his own self-pity. "Daddy! Daddy!" He tries to go back and burns his hand on the flames._

_ Some adults finally come in and drag him out. He was thrashing his arms and legs while tears flooded out of his eyes._

"Daddy!" Ciel sits up in bed. He looks around the room to figure out where he is. He sees that he is in the back room in the lounge chair. He lifts up his hand to see that he is holding a bottle of gin, he put it into his vest pocket. His eye is bloodshot from crying and his eyepatch is soaked with tears. He looks outside at the moon, gawking its mouth into the window as it shined brightly. It was lonely, for all the stars were covered by monstrous clouds.

Ciel rubs his eyes with balled fists as he tries to wake up from his terrible nightmare, "When is Sebastian going to come back?" He wonders that for the longest time until he remembers what was said: _the moon illuminates our final night. _He had forgotten about that. "Is he ever going to come back?"

He stands up from the chair and stretches his arms out with a long yawn. He looks around for his hat and finds it sleeping beside the foot of the chair. He bends over and picks it up, the red ribbon smiles at him. He places it on his head and spins around a couple times, double-checking too see if Sebastian was there or not, "Sebastian, can you go get me some flour tomorrow from the market?"

There is no response.

"Sebastian?"

Nothing.

"Sebastian! Why aren't you answering me? I order you to answer me!"

Again, nothing.

He gets angry, his face flushing a bright red. The teakettle is steaming. "Sebastian! You div! Where the bloody hell are you?" He goes to every room in the meat pie shop and yells his name every time, but he gets only a wisp of air as a response and the scuffling feet of cockroaches. Sadly enough, no Sebastian. His countenance changed as quick as a heart beat. It was now bleached with nervousness. "Se...Sebastian," he whimpers. He can feel the tears build up and a lump growing in his throat. He holds back the tears, he already cried once that night without even knowing until he woke up. "Sebastian, you're in your barbershop." He walks outside and up the stairs.

It begins to rain lightly. He looks down at his feet and notices that he is stepping in something wet. But it isn't rainwater, he can tell that for sure; it is blood, the blood of a police officer.

He sets his hand on the cold doorknob and turns it with great care. The bell sings its melancholic melody as Ciel gasps at the sight on the floor. He has never seen something so decimated, it was like dynamite was placed in the man's stomach and was magically lit to blow him up. His guts begin to seep out of the side that was ripped open by Sebastian's razors, one of his legs is bent in an unreal position and a thread of flesh and nerves connects his head.

Ciel can feel himself swerve from dizziness and from the ungodly scene and smell from inside the barber's shop. He closes the door as fast as he can and covers his mouth, the taste of gin and stomach acid sitting on the back of his tongue and coming up further. He walks down the stairs, tripping over his own feet. He holds onto the railing as he stumbles his way down the flight of stairs.

He collapses into a nearby chair and sits in the rain, processing what he has just seen in Sebastian's barbershop. The sick feeling leaves his stomach and he thinks it over again. Ciel comes to realize what it had come to and that Sebastian's options were slim. He wanted to protect Ciel, but had to follow orders from his master, even if they were the wrong choice. Sebastian had killed a cop and thought that they would be coming after Ciel and himself if he never came back to the station. That's why Sebastian told him to run and welcome Death.

Even though he had left, Ciel still wanted to see him one last time. "This night couldn't get much worse; having a nightmare of my parents death, seeing and smelling a practically exploded corpse, and not having you, Sebastian. Sebastian, I order you to come back now! You're making me sick in so many different ways!"

The rain pours down harder. "And it's going to be your fault if I get a cold, too." He sits in the rain a little longer, embarrassed of himself. His servant wasn't listening to his demands. It was on contract, he had to come if he wanted him to, so where was he? Usually, by now, Sebastian would have wrapped a shivering Ciel up in a warm towel and carried him inside to tuck him into bed, but he wasn't even there to glance at him for being stupid and mindlessly sitting in the rain.

Ciel begins to get nervous, his leg bouncing up and down from being impatient and his black fingernails tap against the table next to him, splashing themselves in a puddle of rain. He stops and got up from his seat.

Mr. Phantomhive walks over to the gate and looks for his demonic friend. He leans over it and looks at both sides of the street. The lump in his throat is growing rapidly, "Sebastian." He opens the gate and looks down the street again, he wasn't there. He runs to the right and looks, "Sebastian." He runs to the left and keeps running, "Sebastian! Don't leave me! Where are you?"

Ciel runs down the streets of London with desperate tears flooding his eyes. He takes off his eyepatch and opens his eye to reveal his Faustian Contract. "Sebastian!" He yells, about to burst his lungs. His eye doesn't glow in response to the demon as it usually does, it simply stays the dull purple color it usually is and begins to fade away to his original eye color. "Sebastian! Sebastian! Where are you, Sebastian?"

Everyone stares at him, clueless as to what's going on.

He runs a little while longer, yelling the name out some more to try to get a response from his friend, "Sebastian! Sebastian! Sebastian!" He trips over his feet and falls face-first to the ground, covering himself with mud. Tears stream down his face and plummet to the ground, blending into the rainy mud and hugging each other in pitty. He has a pitiful temper tantrum, "Sebastian! I swore on an oath that I would kill myself if I didn't get the dignity back to my family's name and you're included in it! I hope you know that! You're the only thing I have left that actually means something to me! Where are you, you bastard? Where are you!"

He stops for a second to see a red liquid mix in the mud puddle he fell in. He gets back up and his blue eye follows the trail of liquid to the dark shadows of an alley. He attempts to look down without having to go in it, but curiosity gets the best of him and makes him go into the depths of the shadows. He can't see anything, but he doesn't need much light to notice that something dead is near the end of the alleyway. He steps on something, making a mushy sound underneath his heel. He steps back to make out the scene blindly with his eyes, squinting to make everything out. There is a dead body of whom he couldn't quite see, so he doesn't know if he knows him or not. Then there is a death scythe with skulls on the handle, and the chest from the barbershop that Sebastian used to bring the dead bodies down.

A person pops out of the chest happily, "My young Ciel! I must thank your Sebastian for this wonderful coffin!" He laughs hysterically, it seems to be the most happy-insane laugh the boy has ever heard.

It was completely obvious to Ciel who it was now, "Mr. Undertaker, why are you here and why do you have my servant's chest?"

He stops laughing and ends it with a dog-like noise, the one where a dog gets confused and tilts its head to the side. "Servant?" He straightens his head back to normal and points an intelligent finger, "Oh! You mean Sebastian! Your heel just went through his hand." He went back to laughing and went back into his coffin. He closes the top on top of it and giggles loudly.

Ciel's pupils dilated in surprise. He turns to the dead body, "Sebastian," he says, "stop playing dead and get up already. You made me worried sick."

The body doesn't say anything, doesn't move, it just stays as it was and continues to leak blood from the neck.

Ciel chokes up, "Sebastian." He falls to his knees and shakes his arm, "Sebastian, you can't die. You're a bloody demon." He realizes that he really is dead, "Holy Saint Francis! He really is dead! Sebastian! Wake up already!" Tears flood down his face one last time. "Sebastian! How could you do this to me! Sebastian! SEBASTIAN!"

He runs out of the alleyway and down the street. He makes his way back to his meat pie shop, which is slaving away at baking some new meat pies. _It may be made fun of now, but it will not be humored later, _Ciel thinks to himself._ If I do not bring back what was originally ours, I swear I will throw myself in the flaming oven in which this family makes their riches from._

Police officers have already made their way to the shop. They are walking down the street to the pie shop as they see Ciel run from down the street and into the shop. They all begin to runtowards the shop to chase after the teenage boy. Ciel is ahead of them by a long shot and makes his way past his counter, splattered with white powder, and runs to the hallway that leads to the cellar. He runs into the mouth of the devilish shadows and grabs the handle to the metal door.

He can hear the cops enter the store and make their way in.

Ciel runs into the cellar, leaving the door wide open. He runs past the giant meat grinder in which he struggled to shove a fresh corpse in every day and makes his way to the oven. He opens the door to the oven. He takes out the gin he put into his pocket earlier and throws it onto the floor. The bottle breaks into many pieces and splatters Gin onto the floor and wall.

He takes a meat pie from the large oven and dips it into the flames to catch it on fire. He tosses it quickly into the Gin to catch it ablaze in an instant.

"If I do not bring back what was originally ours," he repeats to himself with confidence, "I swear I will throw myself in the flaming oven in which this family makes their riches from!" He takes a couple steps to be only inches away from the fire. He looks down at the hungry flames, reaching out to his pasty skin and bristling it.

"We found him," a cop stands in the doorway with a pointed finger.

Ciel doesn't look back at anything, he doesn't smile or cry. He locks the door with his key to place it in his pocket and step into the fire, one steady step at a time, and manages to close the door behind him. He yells and screams in pain as his body is being burned. His blood soaks into the meat pies and it all turns to ash, for none of the police officers know how to open the oven. The shop walls catch on fire and all the men rush out of the building as fast as they can. They stand outside watching the flames grow as they engulf the building once again.

Mr. Undertaker walks behind the gathering crowd, dragging his coffin behind him. He covers his mouth and giggles.

The bell upstairs in Sebastian's barbershop sings one last time as the flames climb up the building to reach for it.

The unforgiving autumn,

Which forcefully traces my scars, comes

While your cool finger beckons me

After I've melted, you tenderly save

The troublesome, icy me

And toy around with me with a kiss

Nevertheless, I search for a single form of love

Your dried eyes tied it to the present from a time far beyond

If I can, I want to end while shrouded like this

Together, we concealed our pale selves; the moon is hiding, too

How many nights

Did I come to love since then?

In the sea of dependence, I forget to even breathe

Even with you captivation, you only leave behind a tepid warmth

In the art of know when to quit

I dislike your kisses

Don't leave me alone, perceive and color me already

What words will slip out from your room?

Being confused, falling asleep– Will you tell me about things beyond those?

Only the moon is looking at sighs lost in the questions of smiles

When the next long needle point to the ceiling

You won't be around anymore

I won't need you anymore

Nevertheless, I definitely searched for a form of love

Your teary eyes tied it to the present from a time far beyond

If I can, I want to end shrouded like this

Your wish and the night bring morning along in vain

Paint it with a tender, passionate, yet cowardly kiss

The moon illuminates our final night.


End file.
